The Fifth Moon's Wolf (The Fifth Moon's Tales)

by Monica La Porta

  From her corner, Mirella could see several fountains and even pools with crystalline waters reflecting the distant sphere of Coral rising above Sidera Prime. Pale pink light mixed with the blue shadow from the space station, and the air seemed to stand still.

  Mirella loved the serenity only a Lupine dawn could evoke. When she was but a girl, whenever she was upset, she only had to wake earlier than her sisters and sit on the slanted roof outside her bedroom. She would lie on the cold, ridged tiles and look up at the rising sun from behind her fingers.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. If only she could go back in time and be ten years old again.

  Loud, running steps interrupted her remembrances, and a moment later Valentine’s angry voice boomed inside the nook. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked Dragon, ignoring Mirella.

  Her husband’s eyes were deep red and his handsome traits were deformed by rage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ronda better be lying.

  Valentine never took the courtesan’s blathering seriously. In fact, he never listened to her, but when the woman mentioned his bride and Dragon leaving together, a sudden jealous rage possessed his wolf who snarled and growled as if in pain. A red veil obfuscated Valentine’s reasoning, and he could only think of Mirella and the shifter spending time alone, without a chaperone. Before he could stop himself, he was running toward the kitchens.

  “Where is the Blessed Bride?” His bellow startled his staff into a frozen tableau.

  Lowering their heads, people dropped to their knees for good measure.

  “Where is she?” The roar coming out of his throat made a few of the younger hands whimper in fear.

  Finally Lucio, one of the sub chefs answered, “The Blessed Bride is waiting for breakfast to be served in the Oval Nook.”

  A few heartbeats later, he burst into the nook only to find that the courtesan had not lied.

  His Blessed Bride was alone with Dragon, smiling at the shifter, and she looked relaxed. The Solarian was leaning toward her and her head was tilted to the side. Their body language spoke of a familiarity usually common between friends. Or lovers.

  His wolf pushed the last thought through Valentine’s mind, and unbidden, detailed images followed of Mirella and the shifter engaging in an intimate dance.

  A sentiment akin to hate for Dragon possessed Valentine.

  Fortunately, the Solarian had not been touching his kitten when Valentine entered the nook. Valentine would’ve attacked his guest without challenging him to a duel first, as etiquette required.

  His wolf didn’t care much for social conventions.

  “What is the meaning of this?” He couldn’t look at Mirella. His wolf’s wrath fueled him and he needed to break something, possibly the High Lord’s face.

  “I invited the Blessed Bride for an early breakfast.” Dragon’s eyes crinkled as if he thought the situation amusing.

  “She shouldn’t be alone with a man, without a suitable chaperone or her lady’s maid.” Valentine’s chest rose and fell in time with his fast heartbeats, and his nostrils flared as blind anger consumed him. All the while, his wolf barked and jumped, unhappy with Valentine’s approach, goading him to seize the shifter’s throat.

  “Bah—” Dragon shrugged. “All these Lupine society’s rules confound me. You left Earth so long ago, but are still so attached to an anachronistic, Victorian world that was antiquated even when it was in vogue.”

  “You are quite the Terran historian now, are you?” Valentine snarled.

  “Solarians can’t be educated?” Dragon laughed. “I see.”

  Raising one hand, Mirella decided it was the right moment to intervene. She stood and commanded Valentine’s attention by locking her eyes with his. Her regal posture with her back straight and her chin high was impossible to ignore. Even his wolf ceased his howling to listen to her. “I couldn’t sleep and I wandered through the house. I ended up at the Harem and met the High Lord by chance. He graciously offered to escort me to the kitchens.”

  Her glacial tone irked Valentine. “I’ll deal with you later.” Gathering all his strength to rein in his wolf, he turned his attention to the enormous oaf who was enjoying the situation far too much. “You are forewarned, don’t get friendly with my bride.”

  “Duly noted.” Barely able to suppress his laughter, Dragon brought two fingers to his heart, then pushed his chair back and stood.

  Meanwhile, three servants carrying carts with food had arrived. Uncertain on how to proceed, they waited at the door for Valentine’s orders.

  “The High Lord will break his fast in his apartments.” Valentine motioned for two of the servants to redirect their course and follow Dragon.

  “Blessed Bride, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Dragon bowed to Mirella.

  “Likewise, High Lord,” she said, curtsying.

  Still seething, Valentine stood before the door and didn’t move when the Solarian walked to him, forcing the shifter to move sideways to exit the room.

  “See you later, Lobo.” Dragon patted Valentine’s shoulder.

  Valentine’s hand shot up to rip the Solarian’s limb off, but Mirella shook her head in disapproval and he counted to three, then moved his hand away.

  Once Dragon crossed the threshold, the remaining servant carted the food to the table and efficiently arranged the breakfast, then left with a bow.

  Finally alone, Valentine made a sign for Mirella to sit, but she remained standing.

  “I’ll have my breakfast in my apartments.” She made to move, but he grabbed her elbow.

  “You are not going anywhere,” he hissed.

  “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Then you’ll watch me eat.” He pulled her down to her chair, then lowered himself into the one Dragon had occupied. He fixed a plate with too much food even for his standards, and angrily stabbed at a piece of fruit. “You should know better than meeting with a stranger alone.”

  “The High Lord is your guest. He’s not a stranger.”

  “A lord, ah.” Valentine scoffed, then poured steaming curcuma tea into a porcelain cup and spilled the yellow brew over the white damask tablecloth.

  “Again, he’s your guest.” Mirella kept looking at him, maintaining a haughty position even from her chair.

  “Where is your lady’s maid?” Forgoing the use of tongs, he threw two sugar lumps into the already overflowing cup, spilling some more tea.

  “Asleep, I suppose.” Puffing in exasperation, she raised an eyebrow and shook her head.

  Why Mirella was acting so high and mighty when she was the one who had just disrespected him grossly was beyond Valentine’s understanding.

  “You could use a good spanking.”

  Her breathing hitched and her eyes widened, but she immediately said, “And I thought Solarians were the only barbarians populating the Coral system.”

  Valentine threw the cup to the table, hitting the saucer which shattered at the impact. Closing his hands into fists under the tablecloth, he asked, “Why didn’t you ask your lady’s maid to escort you?”

  “Because I didn’t think I needed a chaperone inside the house, and I didn’t want to disturb Laura.”

  “You are the Blessed Bride—”

  “Being in a position of power doesn’t give anyone the right to be a cruel tyrant.” Her hands flew to her mouth a blink after she said the last word.

  It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “At least you are still capable of understanding when you’ve said too much.”

  He could see the internal debate waging war in her pretty head, but she finally nodded and lowered her eyes.

  She breathed in and out, then murmured, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You definitely should not have.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You will not leave your room without your lady’s maid again.” Placing both hands on the edge of the table, he gave her a good stare. “Is that understood?”

  “Perfectly.” She nodded, then she raised her
fiery green eyes and added, “From now on, just to be on the safe side, I’ll ask you permission before eating, drinking, and even thinking.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  One moment she was sitting in her chair, the next she was lying in Valentine’s lap, her face to the marble tiles and her rump up. Her dress was raised to her waist by rough hands and her drawers were ripped in two.

  The first slap hit her hard and she gasped. Then she gritted her teeth and refused to make a sound, even when the sting from his spanking became sharp. Then he stopped. As abruptly as her punishment had started, it had ended.

  Valentine’s hands rested on her burning skin, then he caressed her slowly with tender-like care, fast awakening her desire.

  His fingers gently parted her, reaching down, stoking her fire with just a few carefully dealt brushes. She had been able to keep quiet during the spanking, but didn’t have the same strength when it came to keeping her moans silent.

  She was about to shout his name, when Valentine removed his hands, then helped her to her feet.

  Flattening her dress’ wrinkles, he said, “And that’s your punishment for disrespecting me, kitten.”

  She looked at him, unable to say anything. Her body pulsed for want of him and she couldn’t think any longer.

  “Sit and have breakfast with me.” He fixed her a plate and placed it before her on the table.

  Mirella sat with her hands on her lap and didn’t touch the food. She waited for him to finish his plate, then said, “May I be excused? I wish to return to my chamber.”

  He brought the napkin to his mouth, then returned it to the table. “I’ll walk you.” Raising his elbow, he offered her his arm.

  “Thank you,” she said and placed her hand on his sleeve.

  Not a word was said during the interminable stroll through the house. To add insult to injury, they met Ronda on the second floor landing. When the trollop curtsied at her husband, her breasts almost exploded out of her bodice, and Mirella could have sworn the woman smirked at her. In response, Mirella patted Valentine’s arm, who at least had the decency to keep his mouth shut and barely spared a glance for the courtesan.

  Outside her chamber, he rang for the lady’s maid.

  “Master Lobo—” The girl squirmed under Valentine’s stare.

  “You’ll accompany the Blessed Bride wherever she goes, at any time of the day or night,” he said.

  “As you order, Master Lobo.” The girl bit her lower lip.

  Valentine turned toward Mirella. “Have a pleasant day.”

  “You too.”

  With an elegant bow, Valentine exited the scene, leaving Mirella angry at him for being overbearing and self-assured, and at herself for desiring him nonetheless.

  After breakfast, Mirella politely refused Laura’s offer to help her choose the day dress, but kept the one she was wearing. She had no intention to strip before the girl. Laura did her makeup though and flattened her hair before braiding it in three plaits she combined in a complicated hairdo on top of her head. They had just left the bedroom when Aldo intercepted them.

  “Blessed Bride, today, as per custom every Martday, high tea will be served in the Green Parlor. As Master Lobo’s consort, you are to host the evening,” the majordomo informed her. “If you have any request for the refreshments you wish to serve, please let me know and I’ll arrange the necessary changes to the menu.”

  “May I see the menu first?” Mirella asked.

  “Of course.” Aldo raised the hand carrying a leather folder, opened it, and showed her the menu.

  Mirella made a few changes, then dismissed Aldo.

  Surprisingly, her etiquette lessons hadn’t covered how to host a high tea in great detail, but she had seen her mother host them all her life and she had an idea of what would be asked of her. The only thing that wasn’t clear to her was why high teas or any other social occasion were regularly honored in a house where there had not been a bride to organize them.

  Unable to resist, she asked Laura, “Who does choose the menu usually?”

  The girl regarded her with a puzzled look. “The head courtesan of course.”

  Mirella didn’t need to ask who the head courtesan was, and she felt stupid for having asked the question in the first place. In a house with a harem and no legitimate spouse the answer had been obvious. The idea of entertaining her husband’s playthings revolted her, but she would not back out and relinquish power to Ronda.

  Followed by Laura, Mirella spent the rest of the morning planning the high tea. All the while, she walked and talked without wearing any undergarment. Her still red, sensitive skin was caressed by the fabric of her gown and reminded her in the most inappropriate way of Valentine. To her utter dismay, sensual images and thoughts kept filling her mind, and she couldn’t focus properly on the task ahead.

  When it was time to change for the high tea, Mirella asked Laura to look for one of her earrings in her bedroom as she hastily removed her clothes and wore the fresh gown. One brief glance at the mirror had confirmed her behind was still showing Valentine’s prints. She was horrified to find the sight highly arousing, and despite that—or because of it—she decided not wear underwear.

  Escorted by both Laura and Aldo, she made a grand entrance in the Green Parlor. The room was larger than its title suggested and it was filled with people who regarded her with an array of different sentiments showing on their faces.

  Only when Aldo announced her did the crowd bow in respect.

  Mirella raised her hands to her waist. “Please, at ease if you’d like.” She repeated the words her mother always bestowed upon her guests.

  The crowd murmured softly and everyone resumed their positions. Mirella looked around for Ronda and found the courtesan staring daggers at her from a corner.

  The redhead was sitting by a tall, blond man who was seemingly besotted with her vulgar display of skin. Although the courtesan had made an effort to appear presentable for the high tea, she still showed more breast than she should have.

  Mirella assessed the rest of her guests and realized that all the women came from the harem, and the men must have been either employees of House Lobo or belonging to the High Lord’s entourage. Dragon’s men were easy to identify with their blond, braided hair and their massive presence. Once she divided the Solarians from the rest of the crowd, she also noticed that Valentine’s men had easily recognizable traits too. They were all muscular, but lean, and tended to be taller than the average Lupinian. Like Valentine, they possessed a wild animal countenance in the way they talked and gesticulated.

  Aldo served her tea and sweet bread and she thanked him. After she sipped from her porcelain cup, as etiquette dictated she declared the beverage excellent. The rest of the room was then served and chats resumed. She nibbled at the sweet bread so that the rest of her guests would start eating as well.

  Only a few minutes directing her first high tea and Mirella was already exhausted. Her mother had made the whole affair appear easy to manage and even fun to participate in, but Mirella couldn’t find any aspect of it enjoyable. Maybe her sentiment resulted from the fact that nobody would start a conversation with her, or even look her way.

  Perched on her high-back chair, the Blessed Bride was alone in a room full of people.

  Not that she could possibly consider a friendship with the courtesans who warmed her husband’s bed, and any interaction with the men was out of the question. But she still longed for the easy banter she had shared with her sisters.

  And so it happened that when one of the courtesans timidly smiled at Mirella, the Blessed Bride smiled back. The girl’s companion was one of Dragon’s men and he only had eyes for the petite courtesan, but his gaze wasn’t lewd, it was filled with devotion.

  Sadness enveloping her like a cold blanket, Mirella averted her eyes from the couple. She had never been the envious type, but the unbecoming emotion squeezed her heart in a tight embrace.

  Meanwhile, Ronda had come closer and was now conversi
ng with a Solarian who had been sitting a few chairs from Mirella.

  It was time for the main course of the refreshments to be served and the teapots to be filled with new brews. Mirella gave Aldo the order and also asked for the musical entertainment to start. After much deliberation, she had chosen Canto D’Amore, a light sonata for aerial-clavichord to be played by Mr. Giovanni, one of the house musicos. She had been surprised, but also pleased, to find out that Valentine had a whole orchestra on retainer. Earlier in the afternoon, she had interviewed the clavichord player and decided he was more than competent to play the classical piece.

  The musico was introduced by Aldo soon after the drink and the food arrived. The middle-aged, bald man stood, raised the wand high, paid his respect to Mirella with an elegant wave of his free hand, then climbed the dais at the end of the room and sat before the antique aerial-clavichord. Mirella had had the musical instrument moved from the music room to the Green Parlor alongside the dais.

  Judging from the surprised faces in the audience, musical entertainment had not been part of Ronda’s high teas. When Giovanni’s wand brushed the keys and the chosen melody filled the room, the chatting stopped and everyone was soon entranced by the bittersweet story the sonata narrated.

  Only Ronda seemed more preoccupied in checking what Mirella was doing than listening to the concert.

  Halfway through the performance, Valentine and Dragon entered the parlor, causing a commotion among the audience. Master Lobo’s presence must have been highly unusual. The stricken expression on Ronda’s face confirmed it for Mirella, who puffed her chest in satisfaction. The musico paused to bow to the master, but Valentine motioned for him to resume playing, then he dragged a chair next to Mirella’s and sat.